


We're Going Down

by BossToaster (ChaoticReactions)



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: I saw all the Lance angst and went: No, M/M, Scars, Shangst Week 2017, Shiro (Voltron) Angst, so here you go
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-28
Updated: 2017-07-01
Packaged: 2018-11-20 15:44:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,677
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11338476
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ChaoticReactions/pseuds/BossToaster
Summary: Fills for Shangst Week in my own particular style.That style is making Shiro suffer.Day 4 - CaptivityDay 5 - Fear (Platonic)Day 7 - Ocean





	1. Fight For You

Technically, Lance shouldn’t have been up at this hour.

That didn’t mean much.  They were often up at odd times.  Nightmares, injuries, strange training, emergencies - it all meant that Lance’s sought after 9 hours of sleep was more of a dream itself.

Still, if Lance shouldn’t have been up, he definitely shouldn’t have been wandering around.  Insomnia had hit like a truck, and he’d decided maybe a walk would help him out.  At least, it had to be better than staring at the ceiling and letting boredom slowly kill him.

At 02:00 Standard Ship Time, no one should have been awake.  Lance hadn’t heard any signs of another living thing, human, Altean or mouse as he walked down the halls.  He stuck his head into the kitchen, looking for a snack, then decided against it when he remembered the goal was sleep.  Then he went back on his meandering journey, taking in the ship in the dim lights of the night cycle.  Each slap of his bare feet against the metal sounded loud in the silence.

Thankfully he’d done this several times before, or else the yawning darkness would be similar to when Sendak’s memories had infected the castle.  Now it was just back to normal, though Lance wasn’t convinced there  _ weren’t _ ghosts.

So when there was a sound like quiet moans, Lance froze, heart picking up speed.  Really, who knew how many people had died in this castle - the Alteans were all gone, and it had been abandoned, but had it  _ really, _ since no one would give them an answer, and Lance was free to imagine all the terrible things that could happen to someone alone in a castle for ten thousand years-

Then he heard it again, and Lance realized it didn’t sound like a ghost at all.  It sounded like a fight.

And it was coming from the training room.

Lance didn’t tiptoe, but he certainly slowed his movements so they’d make less noise.  The door was cracked open, still.  Probably whoever was inside had tried to shut it manually instead of bothering with the code on the other side and hadn’t quite managed.

Peering in, Lance held his breath and watched.

It was Shiro fighting one of the training bots.

But it wasn’t a fight like Lance was used to seeing.

Shiro snarled like a wild animal, the fingers of his right hand curled like claws.  It left jagged marks in the frame of the bot, but didn’t stop it.  The glowing blue staff came down hard, cracking Shiro in the shoulder and sending him stumbling onto his back.

Onto his bare back.

Because Shiro was shirtless.

This kind of scenario had occurred to Lance, often guiltily in bed.  Shiro was gorgeous, undeniably, and Lance had expected the rest of him to be just as flawless.  Sure, he’d imagined a few scars, pink and long like the one over his nose, but they never detracted from the overall beauty.

Expectation did not match reality.

Shiro didn’t just have a couple of scars.  He was nearly covered in them, discolored and jagged.  It wasn’t like a tiger’s stripes, but a badly healed wound, barely stitched together before something else ripped his skin open.  As he pushed back onto his feet, eyes glazed and heated, Lance could see the way they strained against his skin, pulling tight along the joints.  In places, Shiro’s skin looked too small, like he’d bulked out too fast and never fully adjusted.

Swallowing hard, Lance remembered the way the prison warden had looked when he was injected with quintessence.  Most of him had been covered, but what Lance could see had looked like that.

It was-

Lance couldn’t say he didn’t still want to touch, because he  _ definitely _ did, but a lot of it now was to feel those spots and see if they hurt the way they looked like it did.  There had to be something Shiro could do for that - stretches, maybe, or at least some kind of moisturizer that would soothe the worst of the scars and maybe even fade some of the marks.

There was still beauty there, but it wasn’t the perfect specimen that Lance had assumed.  Shiro had been hurt.  Shiro worse those hurts on his body, even if he couldn’t remember what they were from.

Lance imagined waking up and seeing those marks on himself and shuddered.  His vanity would certainly take a hit, and the sheer loss of agency - in not even knowing  _ how... _

He wasn’t sure what he would do in that situation.

Snarling again, Shiro took hold of the bot’s staff and twisted.  It was a jerky, vicious move that yanked the weapon away and nearly brained the bot in the process.  Then he twisted it in his hands and leapt forward, aiming with the very bottom of the staff.

The staff hit hard, sending the bot teetering backwards.  Shiro pushed forward, not letting up for a moment, jabbing again and again, each hit just as painful-looking as the last.  The both finally went down.  Shiro raised the staff up high and brought it down.

Right into and through the bot’s face.

It finally stilled, not just beaten but  _ broken. _

Panting, Shiro leaned his weight onto the staff, still kneeling over smashed remains.  His breathing was ragged, even more than when he’d been fighting, and there was a tremor to his shoulders.

Not crying, Lance was sure of that.  But there was something there, something dark.

Time to interrupt.

Reaching up, Lance pushed the door open far enough to let him in, then knocked on the frame.

Rather than just look up, Shiro jolted into action.  He yanked the staff up and  _ lobbed _ it, like a poorly made spear.

It didn’t fly true, not without a weight on the end, and instead it spun once, smacking Lance on the shoulder and side of the head.  It clattered to the ground as Lance scrambled to catch himself on the frame.

Shit.   _ Ow. _  Luckily it was the light-weight staff and not the kind Allura favored, or else it would have done more than bruise.

Mouth open, Shiro stared at him.  That same sort of animal look still dominated his face, rather than the calm, collected expression he normally presented.  He looked like a caged dog, fully prepared to bite back, rather than The Black Paladin.

Was this the product of a particular nightmare?  Or something that had happened recently?  Or was this just always how Shiro felt?

“What are you doing up?” Shiro finally asked, voice low.  His hands trembled at his side.  “What are- How long were you...?”  Finally, something seemed to snap into place.  He drew himself up, back to proper military posture, and the expression schooled back into neutrality.  “Are you alright?”

Why did it feel like Lance had missed his chance?

“Mostly,” Lance replied, tone easy as he could make it.  He wasn’t hurt so much as he was  _ scared. _  This wasn’t the Shiro he was used to seeing.  “You owe the ladies of the universe an apology for bruising my perfect skin, you know.”

Shoulders setting, Shiro nodded.  “I owe you an apology first,” he replied, voice perfectly even, now.  He stepped over to the wall and yanked up his shirt, pulling it on quickly.  There was a tension to his shoulders, either from the pull of the scars or from his own discomfort.  “I shouldn’t have reacted like that.”

“I snuck up on you, and you were clearly-”  Lance winced and shut up.  Shit.  Bad direction.  Bad idea.  All around bad.

“Just training,” Shiro replied, voice nearly cheerful, now, at least a parody of it.  “I didn’t want to look at the ceiling if I wasn’t going to sleep, right?”

Lance managed a smile.  “Me too.”  

At least one of them was being honest.

Still not looking over, Shiro grabbed a packet of water and moved back to the bot.  He picked it up casually, as if he didn’t acknowledge the fact that he’d smashed its face in, Lance wouldn’t comment.

It was working.  Lance wasn’t sure how to interrupt.  So he ended up standing by awkwardly as Shiro cleaned up, pushing the bot into the chest that kept everything they smashed for recycling later. 

Finally, he couldn’t take it anymore.  “I could help.”

Shiro froze, and for a moment Lance’s heart picked up again.  His instincts screamed  _ danger. _

But it was Shiro.  Unless he was started and not fully there, he wouldn’t hurt Lance, or hold this above his head, or anything like that.

Even so, Lance couldn’t shake the feeling that he’d made another misstep.  Not mistakes, not really.  Instead it was like walking into a field and only then realizing it was full of mines.

And yet, when Shiro turned around, his expression was perfectly pleasant.  “Help with what?  I’m tired out, so I’m going to head to bed.”

Lie.

“With your scars,” Lance replied, because he’d never been great at keeping a thought to himself, not really.  “You know my face masks, right?  I could probably do something to soften your skin, or at least-”  He trailed off when Shiro’s expression didn’t flicker at all, but didn’t reply either.  “It looks like it hurts.”

“I’m fine,” Shiro told him, closing the chest door and sticking the straw into the packet. “Nothing that bothers me too much.”

That didn’t mean it was  _ okay. _  But Lance didn’t know how to push, not with Shiro.  Maybe if he had a past with Shiro like Keith, or if he was like Pidge with that shared connection.  But he was only Lance, and all those times he’d stared from afar and hero worshipped would only be held against him here.  He knew that much.

“It wouldn’t be any problem.  And you could just apply it whenever you want.  It doesn’t have to be a big deal.”

Taking a deep breath, Shiro stepped over and paused in the doorframe, inches from him.

Lance was suddenly aware that he was a few inches shorter and a good deal lighter than Shiro.

“If you want to help me out, you’ll never talk about this again.  If you have concerns about the fight, I’ll hear them.  If you’re upset at how I hurt you, I totally understand.”  Shiro’s jaw worked hard enough that it cracked audibly.  “But don’t talk about  _ them.” _

All Lance could do was nod, short and jerky.

“Any of those objections?” Shiro asked, head tilted.  “Please, say so now.  I don’t want to let these things fester, not if they’ll affect Voltron or your comfort.”

There was a formality to Shiro’s words, a layer that hadn’t been there since they all met the first time.

It hurt to hear, after all these months working and fighting together.  When Lance had thought of Shiro as a friend.

But there was a right answer here.  Shiro didn’t ask for much, and Lance could understand.  He wouldn’t have wanted anyone else to see either.  Clearly Shiro cared, or else he wouldn’t totally cover himself the way he did.

“Them what?” Lance replied, voice downright cheery.  “Forgot already.  Have a good night, Shiro.”

Shiro stared at him for a moment.  Then his shoulders relaxed and he let out his breath in one huge gust.  “Thank you.  You too.”  His gaze was deeply, painfully grateful as he walked passed and into the gloom of the hallway.

As Shiro walked, Lance thought he could see the too-tight pull underneath. 

That was knowledge he was going to have to live with.  Lance didn’t have answers that wouldn’t put that cold, formal distance between them again.  He couldn’t risk that, not with Voltron on the line.  Not with the universe at stake.

If that meant respecting Shiro’s boundaries, Lance would do that.

But maybe someday he’d get past those walls.  Maybe someday Shiro would trust him with the knowledge.

Then Lance would offer again.

For now, all Lance could do was watch and realize.

There were ways that Shiro was free.  He was a rebel, a fighter, a fugitive.  He battled the Galra tooth and nail.

But in other ways he was still their captive.

Maybe someday Shiro would be truly free.

But that wasn’t tonight.

Until that day, Lance would wait.


	2. Soon They'll Take Us Down

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For Day 5 - Fear
> 
> Sorry for updating this a day late!

“Shiro?  Oh, thank God.  You’ve been out forever.  You with me?”

Lance watched Shiro stir, black-and-white hair fanning over Lance’s thigh.

It had been more comfortable than letting him lay on the cold, metal floor, still collapsed where the guards had thrown him after their separation.  Shiro had already been unconscious then, and hadn’t so much as twitched in the last... well, however long.  Lance didn’t exactly have a watch in here.

Stupid planet.  Stupid distress signals.  Stupid traps.  Stupid opportunistic bastards, looking to take the payout of selling Voltron to the Galra.  Or, failing that, the two paladins they’d managed to snag.

Actually, no.  Stupid them for getting caught when everyone else was able to get away.

Poor Hunk was probably beside himself.  And that wasn’t even touching Keith’s reaction to having Shiro be taken away  _ again. _

Eh, everyone was probably freakout out pretty hard right now.  Frankly, Lance expected the green lion’s head to jam into the wall at any moment.

Or, even more ideally, if Shiro was awake then they could orchestrate their amazing escape, get Lance’s bayard back, and rescue their own damn selves.  He really preferred that one.

“Rise and shine, Shiro.  I don’t have bacon, sorry.  None of us have bacon.  I would  _ kill _ for bacon.  And real talk?  I don’t even like it that much.  It’s fine, but not my favorite thing in the world.  I’d still kill for it.”

Yeah, Lance was babbling.  But they were locked in a tiny cell, Shiro had been utterly out of it for hours, and Lance had nothing to do but fill the silence himself.

So he did.

Groaning, Shiro tilted his head, eyes still closed. His brow furrowed together like he had a headache, which made sense.  No telling what they’d interrogated him for, but Lance doubted Shiro had given anything up.  There weren’t marks on him, but who knew what kind of awful tech that these bastards had.

Then Shiro finally did look up at Lance.

His pupils were totally blown, and his eyes were heavily glazed.

Uh oh.

Maybe not tech.  Maybe drugs.  Drugs were all too possible.

Shockingly fast, Shiro twisted away from Lance until his back hit the wall of the tiny cell.  He continued to scramble backwards, heels and palms scratching against the metal floor, not seeming to notice he wasn’t moving any further.  His eyes didn’t stray from Lance, though they darted up and down, face to hands, face to hands.

Waiting for a strike.

“Hey,” Lance greeted, voice shaking now.  Shiro being unconscious had been bad.  Shiro freaked out was  _ so much worse. _  Watching someone else be scared was only making him feel worse, right now.  “Shiro, hey, you’re safe.  It’s Lance.  You know, the handsomest and best pilot of Voltron?”

No reaction to the joke at all.  If Shiro even heard it, Lance would be surprised.

Instinctively, Lance raised his hands placatingly, trying to show he wasn’t holding a weapon.

Shiro ducked back, curling up protectively, and let out a whimper.

Oh, that sounded so much worse coming from Shiro.  He wasn’t supposed to be like this. He was the Black Paladin, strong and in charge, always level headed.

Lance hadn’t realized he’d relied on that until now.

“No.  No no no. M’sorry.”  The words seemed to slip past Shiro’s lips, his jaw barely working as he whispered.  “I’m sorry, I won’t run, I’ll stay still.  No more.”

Oh, God.

“I’m not going to hurt you,” Lance repeated, a little louder this time.  His own heart hammered in his chest.  What he wanted was to pull Shiro closer, to hug him close and protect him from the bastards outside.  But touching was probably a bad, bad idea right now.

Lance was all too aware of that arm at the moment.

Finally, Shiro scrambled himself into a corner, his knees tucked up to his chest and curled up in a tight ball.  “I’ll hold still, I’ll do the tests, no more. I’m sorry, I won’t, I was bad, please stop, don’t-”

Tests?

Lance’s eyes locked onto the arm again, this time for a different reason.

Words weren’t helping.  Silence wasn’t good, because then Lance could hear Shiro’s panicked breathing and tiny whispers.  He’d lose his mind if he didn’t at least try to do something about it.

What else was there?

Shiro let out a hitching sob, so much higher pitched than usual.  He glanced up over his knees, eyes shiny with unshed tears and utterly without any recognition.

Ouch.

“Shiro,” Lance tried again, more gently than before.  “Uh- Takashi.  Takashi, it’s okay?”

In his corner, Shiro started to shiver.

Okay, no, not better.  Damn.  There had to be something.  Lance  _ needed _ to make this better.  And the sooner they could get Shiro back into his head, the sooner they could get out before they were handed over to the Galra, and all those nightmares Shiro was seeing came true again.

Something quiet, something gentle, something noisy.  Something utterly different from what it must have been like in captivity.

Wait.  Lance had an idea.  Maybe a stupid one, but... here went nothing.

He started to sing.

He wished he knew some personal, quiet lullabies, but Lance didn’t have any of those.  He’d sing something he personally liked, but bubblegum pop or soulful ballads probably weren’t the appropriate genres here.

So Lance sang nursery rhymes.

They probably weren’t ones Shiro would have heard of.  Lance didn’t know any from Japan, and it was unlikely that Shiro had stumbled upon any from Latin America, other than the ones that bled in from the US.  

But it was better than silence.

And slowly, inch by inch, Shiro picked his head up again.  His shoulders relaxed and the trembles slowed, until he seemed to actually see Lance rather than whoever had hurt him before.

There was still no recognition there, but Lance swallowed that minor pain easily.  This wasn’t about that.  It was about helping Shiro.

Slowly, smoothly, Lance spread his arms in invitation.  

At first, Shiro ducked back.  Any movement seemed to translate to being struck right now.  But then his gaze flickered over Lance’s posture.

There was a long moment of hesitation, filled out with half-sobbed breaths and Lance’s quiet, childish singing.  

Then Shiro crept forward again like a dog that knew it would probably be kicked, but couldn’t quite resist the temptation of affection.

A few feet away, just out of arm’s reach, Shiro paused.  Lance continued to sing, soft and lilting, half-making up lyrics as his memory started to falter.  Finally, he switched over to English ones for lack of other options.

Then Shiro surged forward, nearly headbutting Lance in the chest as he clung tightly.  The grip was too strong, the metal of his right arm pressing uncomfortably against the curve of Lance’s spine.

For the moment, Lance kept his hands up, not willing to startle Shiro when he had Lance in such a vulnerable grip.  Instead he continued on, tone sing-song as he stopped actually reciting lyrics and started to just talk.

“Why was the spider even going up the spout?  Is that a problem in other places?  Is that how spiders get into upper floors?  Wouldn’t the spider just have ended up in the gutter?  I hope not, I spend a lot of time there and I’m not friends with spiders.”  Lance rolled his fingers against his palm, searching for something to do as Shiro continued to cling like a young child.  “Then again, I think I’d love to see a spider.  For the first time ever.  Spiders are from Earth and I’ll take what I can get.”  He paused experimentally, listening.

Shiro’s breaths were distinctly wet, and his face was jammed into Lance’s armor.

But this time he seemed to be listening.

Lance hummed a few more bars, no particular melody besides what he made up on the spot.  “It’s okay, you know.  You’re just fine.  You were drugged, Shiro, we’re just in a cell together.  Remember Voltron?  Do you- do you remember me?”

Damn his voice for hitching on those words.

Slowly, miraculously, Shiro gave a tiny nod.  “Lance,” he murmured, voice painfully fragile.  “Shouldn’t be here.  M’sorry.”

“I don’t want a sorry from you.  I want you to help me tear ‘sorry’ from those bounty hunter jerk’s faces, then shove it all up their asses.”

It had been a joking tone, but Shiro still flinched and shook his head.  “No.  No, I don’t want to fight anymore.  Please no more.”

Shit.

Shiro hadn’t really had the  _ option _ to stop, had he?  He’d gone from being captured to leading Voltron.  A different kind of ‘fight for us or else’.  Not just pain, but the pain of an entire universe.

There wasn’t anything Lance could do about that, either.

“Okay, no fighting.  All we have to do is wait right here.”  There went their heroic escape.  But until whatever drug this was wore off, Shiro was no help anyway.  Might as well accept it.  “We’re going to stay right here and the others are going to save us.”

Shiro shook his head.  “No,” he moaned, the word dragging and slurred in his mouth.  “Got you captured too.  Don’t want them to hurt you.  M’sorry.  M’ _ sorry.” _

Swallowing hard like he’d been punched in the chest, Lance finally gave up and wrapped his arms around Shiro’s shoulder.  He did jolt, but luckily his arm didn’t activate, and then Shiro curled up tighter against Lance.  It was like he was trying to curl into his lap, despite his size.

“Hey, what are you talking about?  We were ambushed, it wasn’t anything you did.”  

Right.  Drugged.  He wasn’t exactly being rational right now.

Sighing, Lance gathered Shiro in closer, gently rocking them.  “It’s okay.  They’ll save us.  No one is going back.  I promise, you won’t go back there.”

There was a sniffle below, and Shiro clung even tighter.

“I’ll take care of you,” Lance told him, the words bubbling up fiercely from his chest.  “No one’s going to hurt you.  They won’t get you again, no matter what.  I promise.  I  _ promise _ you.”

Shiro still didn’t reply verbally, but he curled even closer, moving so his cheek was pressed to Lance’s shoulder, tears slowly dripping out.

But he was calmer, and he was reactive, and he seemed to be taking Lance’s words to heart.

They both sat there, wrapped together in the dark, cold cell.

When Shiro finally spoke, Lance almost missed it.  “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” Lance replied.  He pressed a kiss to the top of Shiro’s head, mostly on impulse, but the gentle, pleased sigh he got for it made Lance feel warm.

He meant every word.

This time, Lance would keep Shiro safe.  He deserved that.

And when they got back, Lance would see about keeping it up.


	3. Sinking in the Ocean

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day 7 - Ocean

“I have a question,” Lance asked, leaning against the railing of the jetboat.  He wound his armored arm between the bars casually, more idle gesture than nerves. “Do they count as space pirates when they’re in space but not off planet?  Or are they regular pirates?”

Pidge hummed thoughtfully, sitting down hard.  “Maybe?  It’s technically all space.”  She glanced at Hunk, who was still half stuck under the center console as he tried to coax more power to the engines, and then up at Keith.  

The pair of them had been the ones to think of hotwiring one of the other boats to get away, and it was their combined effort that had them racing along the shallows of the shore, gaining distance from the pursuing pirates with every minute.

“Technically, we’re the space pirates,” Shiro pointed out.  At the odd looks he shrugged.  “The definition of a pirate is someone who takes command of another country’s boats without permission. We don’t know how they got their boats, but we know how we got this one.”

Considering that, Lance nodded agreeably.  “But are we regular pirates or space pirates?”

“Space pirates,” Hunk offered, voice echoing in the console.  “Soon to be ex-space pirates.  Let’s get away quick so we can get off this thing.  I don’t like the look of this engine.”  

Keith hit a wave hard, sending all of them stumbling. Hunk nearly jammed himself deeper into the console, only barely getting his hands on the outside to brace.  Shiro’s boots slipped on the boat’s wet surface.  He grabbed onto a railing and held on tight, brows up.

“Sorry,” Keith called, distracted at best.  His eyes were still firmly on the water ahead of him, trying to keep as close to the shore as he could manage.

Smart.  Their little boat had a much shallower base than the large one the pirates used.  It made sure they always had distance.

Snorting, Lance glared at Keith.  “Have you ever done this before?  Gentle, dude, there’s no seatbelts on this thing.”

“There weren’t on my hoverbike either,” Keith replied flatly.  “No, I haven’t.  I’m sorry, do you want to slow down and switch out right now?”

Pidge snorted.  “I’d rather not.  I’ll take Keith’s rough driving over getting shot by pirates.”

Considering, Lance tapped his chin.  “Give me a minute to think about it.”  Then he glanced over at the pursuing pirate ship.

Which had a glow suspiciously like a canon preparing to fire.

“I take it back!” Lance called.  “Dodge, dodge!”

Keith swerved to the side, going farther from the shore just as there was a deep, concussive blast that reverberated in Shiro’s chest.  Then a beam of energy cut through the water, kicking up a spray and actually causing steam to rise.

As soon as the water was settled, Keith shot them back into the shallows, away from where the pirate ship could reach them.  The abrupt motion sent them all sliding again, clinging to the sides.

“You know what would be nice?” Hunk asked, voice spiraling up a pitch as he held on.  “Life jackets.  Why doesn’t this thing have life jackets?”

Pidge looked around.  “Maybe it does and we just don’t recognize them?”

“Then they’re _awful lifejackets!”_

There was another bass _thump,_ this one terrifyingly close to the boat.  Keith jerked the wheel instinctively, trying to get away from the wave of water as it crashed down.  But there wasn’t enough time to readjust before it crashed down over the side, right onto Shiro.

The force of it totally ripped him from the railing, sending him skidding on the smooth surface of the boat.  Shiro reached out instinctively, trying to get hold again.  But the momentum of Keith’s turn caught him and pushed him along, despite the fact that Shiro didn’t pick up his feet, so his grab missed.

He hit the railing hard enough to stun him, pain arching through his hip. But the momentum continued to push him over.

Shiro’s feet left the ground completely, and he felt himself turn in the air.

He had just one moment to recognize that he was upside down and on the wrong side of the railing.  Just enough time to see the horror on everyone’s face as he went overboard.

Then Shiro’s back hit the water with a smack, with enough painful force that it felt like he’d hit solid ground instead.

 _Water tension,_ part of his brain recognized, almost detached as he started to slip under the surface.

Then, there was a _tug_ on Shiro’s arm.  His anchor had just enough time to automatically deploy his helmet, catching at least some air, before he was dragged under as if he was being pulled to the bottom.

Which Shiro was.  By his metal arm.

He hit the sandy surface with a dull thump, arm burying itself in deep immediately.  Once he had his feet under him, Shiro scrambled, digging his heels in and trying to get free.  His arm scooted along the sandy floor, but he couldn’t lift it more than an inch before he would lose his strength.  Above him, he could see just a hint of light and dark, tiny shapes that were probably fleeing fish, but no-

No boat.

Because Keith had been driving at more-than-top-speed, with Hunk’s help.  By the time Shiro hit the surface, they were long gone.

And Shiro couldn’t move.

In the dark, crushing pressure of the ocean.

Panic took over.  Shiro kicked and flailed, his arm activating as he tried anything at all to get free.  But the water around the arm started to bubble and churn until Shiro got his sense back and turned it.  Doing that only boiled the water, and didn’t make it any lighter.

But it did give him a few seconds of light, enough to see a few feet further.  It was only rocks and sand, no identifying landmarks at all.  The water was fairly clear, but Shiro was a couple dozen feet down, likely, and-

And they wouldn’t be able to see him.

He was in the dark, alone, and he had no idea where he was.

Memories pressed against the base of his neck like a physical presence, threatening to climb up and take over.

Shiro needed a focus soon, or else he was going to lose his grip on reality.

“-iro?”

...Shit, he’d thought he’d have more time than that.

“Shiro?”

Wait, no, that was coming from his helmet.  “Hello?” Shiro called, glancing around instinctively to see who was talking to him.

“Oh, thank God.”  It was Lance.  “Good, your helmet activated.  We didn’t even think to- you okay?”

Shiro took a deep breath and nodded automatically.  “I’m fine.  No injuries.  But I can’t move.  My arm.”

There was a long hiss of breath.  “That’s why you didn’t come up? We figured- well.  A few things.”  Lance swallowed hard.  “You’re okay otherwise?  How’s your air?”

“I got a mouthful of saltwater on impact, but otherwise I’m alright. I think I have a few hours.”  Hours alone at best.  In the dark, time slowly ticking by, second by second, inch by inch, with nothing but the ringing in his ears-

Shiro held his breath so Lance couldn’t hear his panting and to keep himself from whimpering.  They didn’t need to worry about him.  They had their own problems.

“You hold tight, Shiro,” Pidge said, her voice pitched low and soothing.  “We’re almost back around to where we left the Green Lion.  How deep are you?”

Frankly, Shiro couldn’t have said.  He tried to tell from the display on the helmet, but it was hard to focus.  “25 feet?” He guessed.  “Maybe a little deeper.”

Good thing the suits kept pressure, or else Shiro might have been in trouble from that sudden dive.

The thought made his stomach turn.

“Green’s taller than that,” Pidge offered.

“Not by much,” Keith pointed out.  “We can find him, but Green will be clumsy in the water.  You’ll have to be careful not to-”  He cut himself off suddenly.

Not to squish Shiro just because they couldn’t see him.

For a moment, Shiro couldn’t see the water around him.  He could only imagine a huge shadow pressing down above him, slow but too fast for Shiro to speak up, too fast for him to move his pinned arm, until-

A soft noise escaped him, almost like a sob mixed with a cough.

“We can’t let Black go to him,” Hunk murmured quietly.  “That’ll be even worse.  They’ll go full speed and they’re bigger, but it still won’t be good.”

Lance cleared his throat.  Loudly.  “How about this.  You guys keep talking, and I’m going to make a separate channel, and we don’t talk about this _where Shiro can hear?”_

There was a sudden silence.  “Oh,” Hunk said, dawning horror in his tone.  “Yeah.  Sorry, Shiro.”

He wanted to reassure them, wanted to tell them that they were fine, they were trying to help.  But if Shiro opened his mouth, he’d whimper again.

“We’re going to get you back safe, don’t worry.  We can find you easily, it’s just matter of scooping you up right,” Pidge said.  “Hang in there.”

“Be safe, Shiro,” Keith agreed, voice gentling.

Then there was a _click_ and there was pure silence again.

Only for a few seconds, and then Shiro heard breathing that wasn’t his own gulping pants.  “There we go, much better.  Peace and quiet, amiright?”

Lance again.  

“Yeah,” Shiro managed.  There was a joke here about catching up on his reading, but he couldn’t manage to spit it out.  He didn’t have the air for it.

There was an agreeing hum.  “I bet.  After looking after our chaotic butts all day, this is probably a vacation for you.”  He paused, just for a moment, but Shiro could practically hear the cogs turning in his head.

It was almost funny to hear Lance struggling for words.

Not quite.

“Okay, we’re going to have to go get the Blue Lion, alright?  But it’ll be okay.  It’s just 20 minutes there and 20 minutes back, then Blue can gulp you up like a fish.  And I’ll be here the whole time, even.  Or I can switch over to Keith or someone else?”

Shiro couldn’t deny that part of him wanted Keith.  He was the one Shiro knew longest and they had a different bond.  But making Keith constantly chatter to keep Shiro from panicking sounded like torturing him.  And Pidge and Hunk, as hard as they would try, would inevitably babble about something that would make this harder.  Some fact or reality that would remind Shiro of exactly where he was and what position he was in.

When Lance babbled, he talked about home, or snacks, or cute aliens, or sneaking out of the Garrison.  Or about his teammates.  All of which Shiro would prefer right now.

“I want you,” Shiro replied, voice quiet.  “If that’s okay.”

There was another pause, almost surprised.  “Of course.  I get to talk at someone for like an hour?  I’ve struck gold, Shiro, this is amazing.  Thank you for this gift.  It’s a little early for my birthday but you knocked it out of the park.”

It was a little easier to breathe now that Shiro didn’t feel so isolated.  It made it easier to talk and keep engaged.  “When’s your birthday?”

“Later in July,” Lance replied.  “I don’t actually know what date it is on Earth.  But it’s been a few months now.  It’s gotta be coming up.  I’m gunna have to ask Hunk what we have for party snacks.  Because I expect a party, Shiro.  I expect a _bash._  There’s gunna be hot aliens and fruity drinks and lots of music.  Are you writing it down?”

The question was so absurd that Shiro actually laughed at that.  “I’ll tell them to put a note on my tombstone.”

There was a much longer pause at that, and Shiro’s smile slowly slipped off.  That was probably too real right now.  It had been a flip remark, circumstances or not, and he hadn’t meant- shit.  He’d made the one person talking to him uncomfortable.  What an idiot.

But then there was another click. “Keith says joking like that is normal for you,” Lance informed him, nearly prim.  “And he also says that if you die today he’s going to make sure your tombstone says you finally match your sense of humor.”

Shiro snorted at that, helmet thumping back onto the sand.  His feet were angled up higher as the pressure tried to rise up, but his arm kept him down.  It was going to be uncomfortable soon, but for now this was fine.  Maybe there was a way to equalize the his suit to the water so that wouldn’t happen?  

After a few moments of idly kicking, Shiro finally spoke again.  “Tell Keith if he doesn’t like it, he should have slit my throat like I told him to.”

“What?” Lance sounded both scandalized and delighted by the line.  “I’m definitely telling him that, but first you have to tell me that story.”

So Shiro told Lance about sneaking out of the Garrison, of wiping out on their stole bike and having to walk back in the dead of night.  Of Shiro cheerfully telling Keith when and how to kill him to maximize their resources, and Keith’s utter terror before he figured out it was a joke.

“Poor little Keith,” Lance said, though he was nearly cackling.  “I almost feel bad for him.  Nearly.  Not quite.”

“Mmm.”  Shiro kicked again, trying to find something to hook his feet onto.  He was starting to feel his blood rush the longer he stayed at the odd angle.  “I’m sure he appreciates it.  I’m underappreciated in my time.”

“Hear hear,” Lance replied, with great feeling.  “I’ll take you over Hunk’s puns.  They hurt me, Shiro.  They wound my soul.”

Shiro bit back a sudden yawn, frowning.  Should he be yawning?  “Puns are pretty good too.  I like wordplay.  It meant I was getting good at English when I got it.”

“Mmm, I get that, but no.  Still awful.”  Lance paused for a long moment.  “Uh, you doing okay there, Shiro?”

“I’m good,” he replied.  “This is helping a lot.  I’m much calmer.  Actually, you’re right, this is peaceful.”  He pointed his toes straight out, aiming toward where he could still see a hint of light.  It was getting dimmer.  Night was probably falling.

Lance cleared his throat.  “Uh, glad to hear it.  I’m in Blue now, so I’ll see for myself in a bit, alright?  But I need you to keep talking to me.”

Considering that, Shiro closed his eyes.  His head felt woozy.  Idly, he tapped his lighter feet together, which bobbed oddly with all the air in them.  “I’ll keep talking.  This isn’t like zero-G, you know.  I liked that better.  Even if I kept getting caught on stuff.  That wasn’t fun.”

“For the Kerberos missio?” Lance asked carefully.  “You want to tell me about it?  I watched every news report about it.”

Shiro paused.  “Yeah?  Couldn’t have been that entertaining.  Just flew there.  Then, you know.  Pilot error.”  He hummed thoughtfully, the noise slightly slurred.  “It was, you know.  I talked to them.  Tried to negotiate, tried to get them to understand.  They didn’t listen.  Dragged us away, and I saw all the cells.  Story upon story upon hallway of cells.”

“That sounds like it was their error, not yours,” Lance replied, voice gentling.  “Shiro, seriously, are you okay?  Tell me honestly how you’re feeling.”

Considering the question, Shiro dug his fingers into the sand, then looked around.  “That’s a big fish.”

Lance sighed.  “Shiro,” he repeated, this time more urgently.  “How are you feeling?”

“Upside down,” Shiro told him.  “Kinda.  A little.  Not vertical.  40 degree angle.  I think?  Might be closer to 35.”  He considered.  “Do you have a protractor?”

There was a long sigh.  “First of all, no, I do not have a protractor.  Who has a protractor on them?  I don’t math on my free time, Shiro.  Ever.  Don’t ask me to.”

“I would.  Math is fun.  It’s universal.  Galra math is the same as human math.  I assume.  They probably use base ten, right?  Alteans too.  Good.  Lots of ten fingered species.  Universal.”

“Second of all,” Lance replied, ignoring that.  “I need you to stay with me, Shiro.  We’re going to keep talking.  You have to stay up.”

For how long?  Shiro had already been awake for a really long time.  He didn’t think he wanted to stay awake for much longer.  “Okay.  What about?”  He paused.  “Oh.  Kerberos.  You brought it up.  Didn’t even get to do one stinking test.  6 month drive for nothing.”

“That does suck.  I was excited too.  Not for the ice samples, not really.  For you to make it.”  Lance’s voice was almost a whisper.  “I was so proud of you.  One of our own out there.  Youngest pilot to ever qualify for solo deep space.  All the way to Pluto.  It was really cool.  I wanted to be like that.”

Shiro frowned at that.  “Don’t. It sucked.  I let them rule me.  I wish I hadn’t.  Taught Keith how to avoid it.  S’why we’re friends.”

There was a snort.  “Well, I wasn’t a prodigy anyway.  I got in on my own merits and...”  He trailed off.  When he spoke again, Lance’s voice was much softer.  “I’m proud of me for that.  I am.  But that wasn’t what I wanted to be.”

“Don’t be me,” Shiro murmured back, closing his eyes again.  He was floating.  He felt even more like it now.  “When given the option, never be me.  Trust me.”

“You don’t get the option.  You have to keep being you.  We need you.”  

That person sounded very upset.  Shiro should say something?

Maybe in a minute.  He wasn’t sure what to say right now.  His head was spinning a little.  When the world slowed down, that was when Shiro would talk.

“Shiro.  Shiro!”

It was very dark.  He didn’t like the dark much.  But it was quiet, and that was nice.  

“-iro!”

Just a quick nap.

***

There was a terrible crash, and Shiro felt the ground around him tremble.

Wait.  Ground around him.  That didn’t make sense. What was going on?

Cracking open his eyes, Shiro only saw darkness.  He was moving, floating and pushed, hold down firmly in place by his arm.

Was he in space?  Where were the stars?  Where was Black?

“Black?” he called, head turning around.  “Black?  Did you-”

Had Black gone back to Zarkon again?  Had Shiro been ejected again?

Rather than an answer, something _big_ moved past Shiro, jerking him like a rag doll.  Then something else moved, and Shiro finally recognized he couldn’t be in space.  There was no air to buffet him, and this wasn’t like that anyway.

So where-

Two huge, yellow eyes lit up above him.

_Galra._

Shiro tried to scramble back, a scream catching and dying in his throat as he tried to get away.  But he was still held in place, and he could only float and shiver as the eyes got closer, and Shiro saw a huge shadow come closer, and-

And Shiro was sitting inside of the Blue Lion’s mouth hatch, the water training out around him almost immediately.

No longer in held down by his arm, Shiro jerked to the side, the weight compensation finally working properly again.  He crashed back down onto his back, panting up at the ceiling.

A second later, someone kneeled down next to him, taking hold of his helmet.  It deactivated just in time for them to yank it off.  Then Shiro was pulled off the ground and into someone’s arms.

“You _scared_ me, you jerk,” Lance told him, voice small and cracked.  “You scared me so bad.  I thought you might be- I mean, the suits said you weren’t dead, Coran kept reassuring me, but you weren’t responding and you sounded so bad and I couldn’t get here any faster.  I thought it was too late.”

Reaching up, Shiro patted Lance on the back, moving with the furious rocking.  “I’m okay,” he told Lance, still utterly confused and baffled, but willing to play along until his mind caught up.  “I’m okay.  I’m just fine.”

He’d been underwater.  He’d been-

Right.  Falling overboard.  His arm acting like an anchor.  Waiting there for nearly an hour in the rapidly darkening ocean.

Shit.

Shiro tightened his hold on Lance. “I’m really sorry for scaring you.  I promise, it was just blood rush.  My feet were a little too high.  I’ll be okay in a few minutes.  Thanks to you.”

Nodding, Lance pulled him even closer, hiding his face in Shiro’s neck.  “Don’t ever do that again.”

“I’ll do my absolute best not to go overboard when we’re being fired on by space pirates from now on,” Shiro agreed, raising one hand like he was doing a scout’s salute.

Lance growled and shoved back, giving them a couple of inches of space.  Then he took Shiro’s face in his hands.  “Don’t you scare me like that.  Don’t you make me worry.”

Staring back, Shiro shrugged. “Not much I can do about that.  But you were great, Lance.  You kept me calm and able to talk for most of that time.  You did amazing.”

Rather than soak in the praise like Shiro expected, Lance _shook_ him.  “No!  Don’t turn this around.  Don’t do this again.  I can’t listen to you fade over the radio before I can get to you.  Never again. Never _ever_ again.”

“I’m sorry,” Shiro replied, mostly automatically.  “I didn’t mean to.  I just- it’s what happened.”

“Try harder.  I can’t.  I just-”  Lance shook his head hard.

Then he yanked Shiro forward into a kiss.

It was short and chaste, barely long enough for Shiro to register heat against his chilled lips. Lance pushed Shiro back again, taking a deep breath.  “People care about you, you bastard.  So preserve yourself.  Promise me.”

Slowly, Shiro’s hand came up to touch over his lips.  “Um.”

Lance rolled his eyes.  “I don’t expect you to suddenly confess and fall into my arms.  I know it’s a crush.  But my point stands.  We care about you, so keep yourself safe.  Okay?”

“Okay,” Shiro replied, just as dazed as he had been in the water.

Nodding, Lance stood.  “Good.  Now let’s get out of here before the pirates try round two.  You are going to lie down and stay very still until Coran can get his hands on you.”

Shiro nodded back. “Okay,” he repeated in the same confused tone.

Satisfied with that, Lance made his way up to the cockpit.  In a few seconds, Shiro felt the lion rock as they took off.

Huh.

That was...

Shiro licked his lips and stared at the ramp that lead up to the cockpit.

He was going to think about this.

**Author's Note:**

> Looking for more? Follow me at [my tumblr](bosstoaster.tumblr.com).


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